


all i want for christmas is...?

by povdayas (finelineholland)



Series: 12 days of rina <3 [1]
Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: F/M, Merry Christmas!, can you tell i love dialogue?, gina doesnt come for opening night, late night phone call, long distance pining yeah, my babies i love them, rina endgame, rini never got back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finelineholland/pseuds/povdayas
Summary: Gina misses Ricky Bowen. More than she should, considering their relationship was a sweet, unlabeled thing, one that felt almost fragile to the touch. But she can’t help the little pang she feels in her chest whenever he texts “lol” and she can hear the echo of his laughter ring through her head, light and airy and endlessly butterfly-inducing.So wishing him a Merry Christmas? The least she can do, considering she wants his Christmas to be so much more than Merry. To her, Ricky deserves the world. She only wishes that she could be there to give it to him.
Relationships: Ricky Bowen & Gina Porter, Ricky Bowen/Gina Porter
Series: 12 days of rina <3 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037127
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	all i want for christmas is...?

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! ahh i love christmas fics so much, and i love rina so much as well <3 enjoy these fluffy christmas drabbles, merry christmas rinas! 
> 
> twitter: @POVDAYAS
> 
> dedicated to mara!!

_Gina_

**Ricky**

December 25, 2020

bowen <3 

_Merry Christmas, Ricky!_

_12:01 a.m._

Does it mean something? That as the clock hits 12 on Christmas Day, her first one in the Big Apple, all Gina Porter can think about is whether or not a curly-haired boy halfway across the country is having the happiest of holidays?

It probably does. But she decides not to think about it as she places her phone on her nightstand and twiddles her thumbs, anxious to partake in one of her many hobbies to pass the time until he responds. 

They’ve been texting non-stop since she left on Thanksgiving, little check-ins here and there, selfies of him and the gang back in Utah, and pictures of random New York landmarks he’d never seen. But it wasn’t the same as spending her days roaming the halls of East High with him by her side, his hand brushing hers, filling her with the kind of butterflies she thought were only possible in the movies. 

Gina misses Ricky Bowen. More than she should, considering their relationship was a sweet, unlabeled thing, one that felt almost fragile to the touch. But she can’t help the little pang she feels in her chest whenever he texts “lol” and she can hear the echo of his laughter ring through her head, light and airy and endlessly butterfly-inducing. 

So wishing him a Merry Christmas? The least she can do, considering she wants his Christmas to be so much more than Merry. To her, Ricky deserves the world. She only wishes that she could be there to give it to him. 

She’s humming along to the faint melody of _Last Christmas_ , the song playing somewhere in the streets below her Manhattan apartment, when her phone buzzes. She can’t hide the smile that breaks out upon reading the message. 

**It’s only 10:05 here, Gi. Did someone forget about time zones?**

_12:05 a.m._

She did. She always did when it came to messaging him. 

_You know, a person with manners would say Merry Christmas back…_

_12:06 a.m._

**Can’t I have a moment to revel in the fact that you texted me at the stroke of midnight?? Glad to see you haven’t gone all** **_New York_ ** **on me, Porter.**

_12:07 a.m._

_Eh, give me a few weeks. I’m sure I’ll be one of Manhattan’s finest._

_12:08 a.m._

**I don’t doubt that. I’d never bet against Gina Porter.**

_12:08 a.m._

She’s smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. How can you be so gone for someone who’s so many miles away? It’s cruel and unusual punishment. 

_I appreciate the flattery, I really do, but I’m still not hearing a Merry Christmas?_

_A Happy Holidays?_

_A Season’s Greetings?_

_12:10 a.m._

Silence. No response. She feels her smile begin to drop as the minutes pass by, the buzzing of his messages being replaced by Christmas tunes from the streets yet again. 

Finally, her phone buzzes. Continuously. 

bowen<3 would like to FaceTime 

Gina Porter has never been one to freak out about anything. She’s cool, calm, and collected. Every situation has a solution, and she can always find that solution if she puts her mind to it. But what do you do when the boy you like calls you in the middle of the night, and you haven’t heard his voice in ages? Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out her chest, and she hasn’t even hit answer. 

But she can’t ignore him. She’s never been able to do that. So she hits the green button and waits for the call to connect. She’s met with an image of darkness with a few specks of light: Utah’s night sky, staring back at her through her phone screen. 

_“Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Season’s Greetings, Gi.”_

She hopes he can’t see the way she sinks into her mattress, or hear the way her breath hitches in her throat upon hearing his voice, the way her nickname dances on his tongue in the most playful way. In all the weeks she’s been gone, they’ve never spoken on the phone, mostly because of the chaos of getting settled in New York. But now, she regrets waiting, his voice like honey to her ears. 

“Hey.” she replies breathlessly, burying the side of her face into her pillow. He flips the camera and she can see his face now, smile full and eyes bright, curls sprawled across dark concrete. There’s a red and orange hat in view, and it only makes her even more elated. 

“Hey back.”

She smiles into the camera for a moment, watching as his eyes scan the screen, tracing her features through the phone. Her stomach twists pleasantly, her body heating through her red flannel pajamas. 

He shifts slightly, and she gets a quick glimpse of a ramp in the background. “You’re at the skatepark? On Christmas?”

“Christmas _Eve._ ”

She rolls her eyes, and he laughs, the sound sending shockwaves through her body. 

“Seriously, Bowen. It must be freezing out there. What the hell are you doing?”

He stares past the phone for a moment, and she recognizes the look on his face. Deep thought. Contemplation. She can see the reflection of street lights flickering in his glistening eyes. 

“My mom’s coming home tomorrow.”

Gina rolls over and turns on her lamp, laying on her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. He glances back towards the phone, eyes soft and beautiful, before smirking. 

“Nice pajamas.”

“Shut up, Ricky.”

He huffs in amusement before looking back to the skies and continuing. “Of course, I want her home. I mean, it’s Christmas after all. It’s just… weird. You know?” 

She nods her head sympathetically, wishing she could reach her hand out and find his, lying against the cold gravel of the skatepark floor thousands of miles away. 

“Whenever I can’t really wrap my head around something, I come here. Remember how we used to do that?”

Of course she remembers. All the late nights she’d spend talking about random subjects and watching him practice tricks, helmet hair on full display and words pouring out of him like a faucet. When his world seemed to be too much, she was his solace; she’d sit and listen and offer advice (he’d tease her for being so _worldly_ at such a young age), and then they’d just bask in each other’s presence, no witness to stolen glances and subtle brushes besides the moon above. She wonders if he knew that he was her solace too. 

“Yeah, I do. It was nearly below freezing every night, and you promised to buy me hot cocoa every time I snuck out past midnight. Speaking of which, you owe me a _ton_ of hot chocolates.”

He laughs, boyish and free and wonderful, everything that Ricky Bowen is and always has been. He seems almost unreal through the screen; how could one person radiate so much light? She wishes she could touch him, press her thumb into the dimple that appears in his cheek, just to be sure that he isn’t too good to be true. 

“I’d buy you a thousand hot chocolates if it meant you’d come back. I miss doing these kinds of things. I miss _you._ A lot.” 

“I miss you too. _A lot._ ”

He shifts his attention back to the camera, his eyes studying hers from light-years away, still managing to ignite the fire inside of her that only he could light. Setting off fireworks in every sector of her heart. She reaches a finger up towards the screen and traces the curve of his jaw. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

She’s never understood how no matter how much was said, so much always seemed to be left unspoken between her and Ricky. His words would say one thing, his eyes another, and _God, if only those eyes could speak._

“Enough about me and my mommy issues,” he says, sitting up and shifting so that his back is against a nearby wall. “Anything new in the Big Apple?”

“Not really. Holidays have been pretty lame considering we know _absolutely no one._ The lady next door left a fruitcake at our doorstep yesterday. It was _awful._ Our upstairs neighbor is a dancer, but he only does tap and always does it at random hours of the night-”

“Sounds like Red.”

“...Why does Red tap dance at random hours of the night?”

“Why does Red do half the stuff he does? He's _Red._ ”

“That’s fair. But yeah, not much going on here. It’s like I’m here, but my brain’s still in Utah.”

_Her heart was in Utah as well._

Ricky sighs. “Just can’t get East High off your mind, huh? We are _pretty_ unforgettable.” 

“Sure are, Wildcat.” The nickname makes him grin, and she returns one just as wide. 

They talk for hours, random topics and useless chatter that would seem meaningless to anyone else, but meant the world to her. 

_12:55 a.m._

**“What’s your favorite Disney movie?”**

_“Like, overall, or strictly cartoon?”_

**“Hmm… overall.”**

_“Easy. The Greatest Showman. Hands down.”_

**“I’ve never seen it all the way through.”**

_“You’ve never- yeah, I’m going to need a refund on this friendship, it’s no longer working for me.”_

**“Do you have a receipt?”**

_“...Touché.”_

**“I think it’s pronounced ‘toosh’.”**

_“I’m 100% positive that it isn’t.”_

**“Genevieve Porter, you’re such a know-it-all.”**

_“And you, Richard Bowen,_ _are an_ idiot _.”_

 **“But I’m your** **_favorite_ ** **idiot.”**

_“...We are going to watch The Greatest Showman. Together. Okay?”_

**“Anything you want, Gi.”**

_1:27 a.m._

_“Are you singing under your breath?”_

**“No.”**

_“You totally are.”_

**“I’m not.”**

_“I’ll never understand how you snagged the lead in the musical and still get all shy about your voice sometimes.”_

**“Well, not all of us are classically trained,** **_Miss Quadruple Threat_ ** **.”**

_“Quadruple? What’s the fourth thing?”_

**“Throwing drinks in people’s faces, remember?”**

_“You’re never going to let me live that down, huh? I’m a changed woman!”_

***cue Ricky Bowen’s signature butterfly laughter***

_“Seriously though… I really like your voice. What were you singing?”_

**“That grocery store across the street is playing Christmas songs. They’re playing** **_All I Want For Christmas Is You._ ** **”**

_“Yikes, Mariah? Maybe you shouldn’t sing it.”_

**“Rude!”**

_“I’m kidding. Kinda. It doesn’t matter. Sing a bit for me, please?”_

**_“I just want you for my own, more than you could even know, make my wish come true…”_ **

_1:56 a.m._

_“Did I ever tell you that the eyeliner you had on during opening night made you look like a raccoon?”_

**_“What?”_ **

_“A cute raccoon! But a raccoon nonetheless.”_

**“You think I’m cute?”**

_“Sure. But I’m cuter.”_

**“Can't argue with that.”**

2:13 a.m. 

_“I just checked the time… Merry Christmas_ in Utah _, Ricky.”_

**“Crap, I didn’t even notice. My dad is gonna kill me.”**

_“Just tell him you were with me. That’s always worked before. Mike Bowen loves me.”_

**“Yeah… he’s not the only one.”**

_“...Ricky?”_

**“Yeah, Gi?”**

_“Christmas is going to be good this year, whether your mom is there or not. I can feel it.”_

**“Yeah. It already feels like the best Christmas yet.”**

_“Goodnight, Ricky.”_

**“Goodnight, Gi. Merry Christmas.”**

The three beeps of a disconnected call echo through the darkness. Gina holds her phone to her chest.

 _He’s not the only one._ The words seemed to slip between the cracks, words that held such big meaning coming out as if it were easy. Almost accidental. But he looked like he’d never meant anything more. It gives Gina so much to think about as the carol outside ends and the next song begins. It’s none other than the Mariah Carey classic.

She just wants _him_ for her own. More than he could ever know. Maybe, somehow, her wish would come true. 

Gina Porter fell asleep on that early Christmas morning with the hope that it would. Perhaps, fate would decide that all Ricky Bowen wanted for Christmas was her, too. 


End file.
